Lindokuhle Sobekwa, from *I carry Her photo with Me*, MACK, 2024. © Lindokuhle Sobekwa & MACK.

Written by Eugenia Mosquera

Thokoza, a township built where an airport outside Johannesburg once stood, exists today as a result of segregation. Like many marginalized settlements created on the outskirts of South African cities, Thokoza has long been a place of adversity and resilience. Yet, it is also a space where the past lingers, and those who have suffered still feel its weight. In 1998, Khumalo Street, where political violence and massacres in the 1990s took place, was, once again, the setting for tragedy.

Lindokuhle Sobekwa (b. 1995) is the author of I carry Her photo with Me, a 2024 photo book published by Mack Books. As part of the first generation photographers to be born after the Apartheid, Sobekwa undoubtedly slots into a vigorous and unapologetic tradition of documenting and denouncing reality. His keen eye for the complexities of present-day South Africa, whether to shed light onto those deemed invisible or to remember those who have disappeared, probes deep into the social fabric of the nation, revealing both its resilience and its unresolved wounds. Sobekwa revisits a personal tragedy: the disappearance of his sister. After a car ran him over in Khumalo Street, his sister disappeared. The long-term incommunicado came to an end after a decade, and Sobekwa was reunited with his sister, Ziyanda. Tragically, however, her return was followed by illness, and she died shortly after their reunion.

This latest project, which began in 2017, takes the form of a scrapbook, a style that merges maps, handwritten notes, and pictures. In Sobekwa’s work, we find traces and faces that connect to his sister, evidence that makes her existence tangible.

Some of the most heart-wrenching images are those of his mother. In one monochrome frame, she is bathed in dim light, lying in bed at night, reading the Bible. We peek into one of the most intimate moments of a mother whose only solace is found in verses that have traditionally served to comfort the weary.

Not everything we see is portraits. Paradoxically, Sobekwa’s most colorful frames are those that wrestle with absence, loss, and belonging. An ethereal female figure silhouetted against the light; a pink dress contrasting with a bare turquoise wall; a family frame with broken glass. These are objects and subjects that silently speak volumes and reinforce the narrative of loss, of an incomplete — and fractured — family. Sobekwa’s style is delicate and subtle; he is precise in his snapshots, masterfully capturing moments and objects that compel us to pause and reflect. His images invite us into his sorrow.

One could compare his work to a puzzle. The first image we witness is a family picture in which somebody’s face has been cut out. As Sobekwa explains, “This photograph was the only one my family had of her, and it became the image used for her funeral. For me, it remained a faceless memory, and that unresolved feeling drove me to explore this story through photography.” The intimacy of the book is comparable to a personal diary in which the photographer documents and retraces his mysterious sister, scrutinizing her friends, her memories, as if assembling fragments of a story while navigating guilt and despair; the product is a heart-wrenching photo book that serves a memento of his sister’s earthly existence.

But Sobekwa’s experiences, although deeply personal and reflective, are not isolated; they reflect the broader realities of South Africa. “Photography has always been a tool to teach people about life,” the artist states. His approach is not necessarily confrontational but rather introspective and testimonial. By turning the lens inward and focusing on personal stories, he comments also on larger social issues.

Through his emotional journey, Sobewka’s photography serves as a form of healing, allowing him to confront personal grief while also reflecting on the broader scars left by Apartheid, poverty, and violence. His work invites us to consider how memory, trauma, and resilience intersect, offering meditation on the power of art to both preserve and transform painful remnants of the past.